


Because The Night

by prinsessa_mouse



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Dating, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Genderbending, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Addiction, Past Relationship(s), Pickles the Drag King, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Dethklok, Protective Nathan, Romantic Skwisgaar, Snakes N' Barrels, past Nathan Expolsion/Pickles the Drummer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsessa_mouse/pseuds/prinsessa_mouse
Summary: Pickles is smitten with a Scandinavian guitarist!She gawked at him all the time when his bands performed, she flirted with him when he ordered drinks at the bar and pouted when his bands didn’t secure a slot on the roster for the week. Nathan listened to her gush about the way the guy played guitar. It was cute how much she denied liking the guy when all she talked about was him.
Relationships: Pickles the Drummer/Skwisgaar Skwigelf
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. That Sounds an Awful Lot Like Caring

“Meatloaf? Hm brutal,” Nathan grumbled.

Pickles’ green eyes cast a hateful glare as she tossed the wet dishtowel onto the kitchen counter. She turned around to face the scowling twenty-one year old who sat down at the kitchen table. “Whenever yeh wanna start cooking, I’ll welcome it!” she snapped back.

“I like your cooking,” Nathan said awkwardly rubbing his neck. He decided to pick his battles wisely. Pickles with her hands resting on her hips while she stared at him tended to scare him just as bad as her with PMS or when she launched into screaming matches with Magnus. The little redhead packed a punch both verbally and physically when provoked.

“Then why yeh bitchin’ about it?”

Nathan pondered the question, repeated it in his head while he slowly processed his response. He chanced a look at Pickles, who’s dark lined eyes welled as she bit her lip. Her moodiness replaced with dejection. He heard her voice taper off from blunt to meek insecurity. He fucked up by complaining one to many times when she took care of him. He sucked at apologies, but he needed to try for her. “Because I’m an asshole and should say thank you for always cooking for me,” he said.

“Shut up, Nate,” Pickles sighed. Out of nervous habit she ran her fingers through her thick red hair that needed to be brushed. The strands catching on her chipped black nail polish. She wanted to scream at him, wished she could have fallen in love with him and reciprocated the feelings he had for her when they met. Their platonic friendship was enough for them. She turned back to the sink full of dirty dishes to distract herself from looking at Nathan and his sincerely sorry face.

“Not being rude but are you riding the crimson tide?” Nathan asked.

Pickles scrubbed aggressively at a pot with the scouring pad. All her frustration taken out on the dishes that sat in the sink for three days when Nathan promised he would do them. Why did he have to ask her about her period? That annoyed her more than dishes and housework. “I feel like a maid in my own home, Nate! All I’ve done is cook and clean today then I’ll be mixing drinks for a bunch of drunk douchebags tonight,” she groused.

“I said I’d do the dishes, Rory.”

“Ha,” Pickles cackled evilly. Her glared over her shoulder at her best friend for the second time that afternoon. “Yeh said that three days ago, dude!”

He couldn’t win this battle. He promised to do the dishes instead he got distracted by football. The next day, inspiration struck him and he wrote lyrics for two new songs. Third day, he was hungover and didn’t want to do them. “I’ll do them right now and take the meatloaf out of the oven,” he offered.

“Ten minutes of freedom all fer me? How thoughtful yeh douchebag.”

“Go fuck off somewhere else in the apartment and let me work,” Nathan said abruptly getting up from his spot on the kitchen table. He stormed over to the sink and shooed Pickles away. Her snotty little side smirk the telltale sign she won. She infuriated him yet that’s what made him love her and remain dedicated to protecting her. He watched her saunter off, her skinny jeans hugging her waist and her black tank top accentuating her decent sized breasts. He ogled her sometimes, he really liked her ass in her cut off shorts or when she dressed grunge. Her lack of presence disappointed him; she probably went to smoke out on the porch. He enjoyed her company even when she bitched at him and told him how to do things like laundry or the dishes.

Her irritation not misplaced when he started scouring a pot with burnt pasta hardened to the sides like barnacles on a ship. Were they just eating meatloaf for supper? Did they have potatoes? How hard was it to make mashed potatoes? He really needed to learn how to cook. He watched the clock while he powered through the sink full of dishes. If he burned the meatloaf, she would taunt him about it for months. She could be the most relentless pest, yet he didn’t want her to stop being that way. She was his favorite type of person, blunt and honest, caring and loving, talented, humble, and smart.

He dreaded the day when another man took all her attention from him and replaced him as her best friend. That day would come, he replaced Tony as both friend and lover since they were closer in age. The age gap between Tony and Pickles spanned nine years, they were only two years apart. He hated dwelling on losing her even if she promised he never would.

His thoughts were disturbed by the front door slamming, the little redhead trudged into the kitchen with a handful of mail and her signature resting bitch face. She slumped into his chair as she poured over the bills they needed to pay, a letter from Wisconsin State Prison sat abandoned on the table. Nathan never asked why she shoved them into the kitchen junk drawer. Her numb nature evident when she tossed letters from Tony into the same drawer, a place for the men that hurt her to be forgotten. She entertained phone calls from Tony and tolerated the ones from her mom, when the collect calls from Wisconsin State Prison came through, she hung up.

“The loaf, dude,” she mumbled. She studied a letter that outlined her royalty earnings for the month. It impressed her how many radio stations still played Snakes N Barrels. Another letter outlined all her payments for writing credits from Snakes, all the songs she sold and all the music she was hired as an instrumentalist. Being a studio musician and selling songs she wrote kept a roof over their head so Nathan could focus on the band. It also saved up for demos if they could ever get the right musicians.

Nathan hustled over to the oven and pulled the door open. The aroma of a homecooked meal filled his senses. Pickles’ meatloaf smelled way better than his mom’s.

“Nate, oven mitts.”

The younger man grunted in response.

“Don’t give me that. Common, we gotta eat then head to work,” she said tucking the letter back into the envelope.

They ate in peace, the dishes piled up in the sink and the leftovers occupied the only free bit of shelf space in the fridge. Nathan banged his fist on the bathroom door impatiently. Pickles took forever to get ready and when she finally breezed out of the bathroom all he could smell was hairspray and lavender.

“You’re not wearing that,” he barked at her. He didn’t have time to toss every man in the bar out the back door for pinching her ass.

Pickles' hands returned to her hips. “Yer not my dad or boyfriend,” she pointed out.

“Would you just change? God, you look like a ah ugh I don’t know…ah.”

“A slut?”

Nathan rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. He managed to step in shit twice in one day with her. She looked beautiful and the only issue he had was her shorts hardly covered her ass even with tights on to cover her freckled legs. “No! You look great if we were going to see Siouxsie and The Banshees,” he replied.

“Then why do yeh keep pushing me and pushing me?” she asked. Her shoulders slumped; her confident spitfire nature dulled, her expression mirroring that of a sulking child. 

“I’m not,” Nathan crossed the living room and pulled her into a hug. Her tiny frame trembled in his grasp. His fingers carded into her teased red hair as he held her against his chest. “I don’t want to see you harassed by drunks at work. You deserve better than that, Rory. You hate being treated like a piece of ass.”

Pickles melted into the embrace and sniffled back her tears. She cursed how emotional she got during PMS. She let him hug her for a second longer before pushing him away. She put him at an arms length apart while they stared back at one another. Pickles inhaled a shaky breath, breathing in again to compose herself. “Yer right,” she conceded.

“Throw on some jeans and let’s go,” Nathan said calmly. He thanked all the forces of darkness that she obeyed him. When he finished getting ready, he found her in a pair of jeans and combat boots. A flannel shirt wrapped around her to ward off the evening air. He grinned at her, his silent compliment to her outfit.

“Can yeh hurry up?” the redhead impatiently tapped her foot. The rhythm she heard in her head beat out against the thin carpeted floor. She craved to get back behind the drumkit to expel some of her demons. Drumming was cheaper than therapy. The pattern playing on repeat in her head might become useful at band practice. Her foot now tapping louder from inspiration than impatience.

Nathan chuckled. Lately, he noticed how much effort Pickles put into her appearance on the nights Financially Raped, Agnostic Priest, Fuckface Academy and Smugly Dismissed performed. The thing each of those bands had in common was a blonde Scandinavian guitarist. She gawked at him all the time when his bands performed, she flirted with him when he ordered drinks at the bar and pouted when his bands didn’t secure a slot on the roster for the week. She didn’t crush on many guys, she rarely told him about those crushes. Nathan listened to her gush about the way the guy played guitar. It was cute how much she denied liking the guy when all she talked about was him. He bit his tongue and followed her out to their shared truck. Teasing would only add insult to injury. Lord knew she didn’t need anymore of his bullshit today.

The outside air was crisp with the smell of rain clinging to the breeze. They hurried down the stairs into the parking lot. Pickles dug through her black leather fringe purse until she produced a set of car keys that she held up triumphantly. Usually they played a game of rock, paper, scissors to see who got to drive. Tonight, she tossed the keys to Nathan.

They chatted casually about their band’s upcoming gig. Pickles begging to play anything but rhythm guitar at the next show. She kept telling Nathan she belonged on drums. The back vocals weren’t an issue, she could multitask while playing drums. She didn’t mind filling in on whatever instrument was thrust into her hands after another musician got fired. They went through drummers and bass players like babies went through diapers. Nathan and Magnus the epitome of evil when it came to _'the sound'_ of the band. If they let her back onto the drums, she had her sound figured out. When she played bass or rhythm guitar she noodled, she had to listen to Magnus scream at her for trying to be creative. She eventually gave up her fight for creative liberty to shut the guy up. Nathan stepped between them more to protect her from the lead guitarist than the other way around when they started fighting.

Nathan never took away her creative liberty. She appreciated the level of trust they shared passing their lyric books back and forth over a glass of wine or a beer. He listened to her musical ideas while she sat cross-legged on the floor with her Gibson Hummingbird nestled close to her body. The music reverberating through her soul the way the drums rattled her bones and singing burned her lungs. A natural high, all the endorphins washing over her until everything wrong in her life drown.

Pickles eventually tuned Nathan out when he started to complain about Magnus’ drug use. Her arguments void because she had a drug problem when she was in Snakes N Barrels. Thanks to Tony plying her with heroin and cocaine she lost a year of her life. A year of bad shows turned her around as quick as finding out her boyfriend took advantage of her when they got high. She only smoked weed and drank now. She cleaned up because being a drug addict got expensive, she wanted more from life than waking up in dumpy motel rooms with no idea what happened forty-eight hours before.

“Rory,” Nathan’s voice rumbled over the Megadeth cassette in the tape deck.

“Hm?”

Nathan saw her zone out a lot. She battled her demons and came out with emotional scars. He could tell from her rigid body language that the topic of Magnus and drugs made her uncomfortable. She got tempted sometimes, Magnus pressured her to do drugs with him and Nathan applauded her for holding fast to her lesser vices as an alternative. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“That sounds an awful lot like caring,” Pickles chided. Nathan always said _it’s not metal to care_. Made that clear with every person that joined the band but when it came to her he didn’t follow those rules.

“I do care about you. Think I would put up with your shit if I didn’t?”

Pickles brought her thumb up to her mouth (another nervous habit) and chewed at her short nail. “Sorry…I’m a bit off tonight,” came the muffled response.

“Sure, whatshisface will think you look beautiful,” he offered.

A laughed escaped her before she could clamp her mouth shut. “Shut up it’s not about him,” she smiled.

“I think it’s Agnostic Priest playing tonight.”

“Followed by Smugly Dismissed,” she added. She pulled her thumb from her mouth in favor of twisting a piece of her red hair around her finger. “He always looks so dreamy when he isn’t covered in stage make up. He’s got the most stunning blue eyes,” she fawned.

Nathan pulled the truck into their parking spot and turned off the engine. He handed her the keys that she stashed away in her purse. “It confuses me how a girl who loves metal and shreds the way you do can act like such a lovesick girly girl,” he lightly teased.

“Not brutal enough?”

“Being in love is brutal,” Nathan stated factually. “Being a woman is even more brutal with all the shit you guys go through.”

Pickles beamed over his observation. Nathan had a very perceptive nature for someone who didn't talk openly with a lot of people.

“You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy.”

“Then what do I do?” she asked. She twisted the strand of red hair around her finger until it was tight. She never realized how transparent she was being. Obviously transparent enough for Nathan to take notice and listen to her ramble on about the blonde guitarist. God, the guitarist probably noticed too!

Nathan patted her knee affectionately, “Figure out his name so you stop calling him Blondie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer:**  
>  While this story is set Pre-Dethklok/early Dethklok it still follows close to the conception of the band and plot of the show. Characters have been altered somewhat from that seen on the show. They are noted as younger or older purposely to fit the plot. They will continue to be just as brutal as they are on the show!!  
> Pickles is depicted as female and chooses to present herself as male when she performs in bands. She is a male impersonator because I wanted to try something different!  
> There will be some Swedish so I'll make sure to leave the English translations down at the bottom of the page :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter!! Happy Reading <3


	2. Blondie

Skwisgaar prided himself on punctuality.

He peeked up at the clock backstage to see twenty minutes passed, the members of Smugly Dismissed were late. Agnostic Priest arrived on time for soundcheck and the pre-drinking ritual. He returned to his task of tuning his guitar. His peace destroyed by the curly haired toad he called a best friend and roommate.

“Whersch the chicks?”

Skwisgaar ignored him.

William Murderface hated being ignored especially by pretty boys like Skwisgaar. To make it clear he wouldn’t be shrugged off he sat as close as possible to his friend. Invading his personal space always worked wonders in the attention department.

“Ams busy,” the blonde responded. He mentally kicked himself for playing right into his friend’s game. He didn’t need this type of distraction right now. His other band missed soundcheck, he needed to tune his guitar into drop D, and he kept sneaking out into the venue to see if that adorable redheaded bartender arrived for her shift.

“Common,” William whined.

Skwisgaar wouldn’t be swayed. “Ams still busy. I has two gig tonights,” he said calmly.

“Skwisgaar, we need to pick up some chicks,” Willam said. He snuggled up so close he could smell spice and cologne wafting off the blonde. No wonder every woman flocked to him when he smelt like a mall perfume counter. William needed to find out what cologne he wore. Unfortunately, suggesting they needed to pick up chicks didn’t stop Skwisgaar from tuning his guitar. “We’re going to missch them all,” he added.

That was a moot point. Skwisgaar’s focus shifted a month ago when Florida became his permanent residence, and he got his bands regular gigs at the Depths of Humanity. There he spotted her, the short redhead with the gorgeous smile and piercing eyes. He tried his best to chat with her until she got busy bartending, her sympathetic smile nearly knocking him over. When she talked to him, it usually revolved around his bands and asking about his tours. When he got pulled away for another out of town gig, he found disappointment with every girl who flirted with him. They weren’t her, his insatiable appetite for women quelled instantly.

“What is the matter with you?” William asked. He dramatically flopped back on the couch like a fussy toddler, he watched Skwisgaar be unbothered by the prospect of missing out on sex. “There’s been schomething wrong with you ever since we came to Tampa,” he pointed out.

The sound of the back door of the venue slamming saved Skwisgaar from explaining his newest interest in monogamy. Smugly Dismissed drunkenly stumbled into the warmup space with all their gear in tow. The apologies and empty promises were all lies. They only survived because of Skwisgaar’s guitar playing and back vocals. His reputation grew when he arrived in America. Bands sought after him to get their music on the radio, dangle the carrot at the music industry in hopes of being signed to a label. His name boosted many bands, his guitar on a record also helped.

He distributed his time between four bands to keep money in his pocket. He got William auditions for bands that could open for his. Everything in his perfectionist life followed a plan. He was a creature of habit and routine. The band showing up late offended him. There was no point in arguing with his bandmates, they loved to taunt him because of his weak English.

“Dildos,” Skwisgaar muttered.

The presence of Smugly Dismissed sent William running off into the venue to bother the few women hanging out in the bar. The four guys all staggering about meant Skwisgaar would have to herd them on stage for soundcheck. They eventually got their instruments and equipment out then followed the lead guitarist to the stage.

It should have been old hat:

Arrive to the venue, soundcheck, pre-show rituals, show, party, pack up and get paid.

Smugly Dismissed spent most of soundcheck arguing about drinks rather than talking with the sound guy. Skwisgaar apologized profusely on behalf of his bandmates. Embarrassment didn’t fully hit him until he saw the little redhead watching his band on stage. She gave him a tiny smile then resumed her task of washing glasses.

That sent perfectionist Skwisgaar into a spiral of anxiety. She bared witness to his band acting like drunken lunatics during soundcheck. He needed a smoke to calm his nerves before he launched into an argument with the band and pulled them from the line up. It wouldn’t be the first time he pulled the plug on a gig when a group behaved poorly. The audience didn’t come to watch a bunch of idiots do a disservice to music. Venues didn’t give second chances when musicians insulted their establishment either.

The rowdiness stopped when the lead singer of Agnostic Priest stomped out onto the stage to put the younger band in their place. He stood guard until soundcheck finished, a lecture awaited the younger band backstage. Jeff turned into a band parent when it came to Smugly Dismissed, he kept them on a tight leash during tours. His patience short when he dealt with a bunch of twenty some year-old boys getting a taste of the touring musician lifestyle. Skwisgaar stuck close to Jeff, the security and acceptance from the older man put him at ease. He didn’t mock him for struggling with English and watched over him because he was only nineteen and still a kid.

Skwisgaar slipped out the backdoor after he sat through Jeff’s lecture on tour etiquette. Hidden behind the venue was his favorite hiding spot, a little alcove by the load in ramp. He leaned against the sheltered wall and pulled a crushed package of Marlboro cigarettes from his back pocket, his free hand dug in his front pocket for his lighter. His grip finding copious amounts of guitar picks instead. Shoving the cigarette into his mouth he searched all his pockets only to come up empty.

How could he lose a pink lighter?

Cursing, he removed the cigarette from his mouth. He could go back inside to search his backpack. William loved a chance to show off his Confederate flag Zippo, he most likely cornered a woman at the bar and talked at her about Civil War history. Asking Jeff earned him the ‘ _you’re too young to be smoking’_ lecture. His bandmates all smoked, borrowing one wouldn’t be an issue if he didn’t feel so anxious.

When anxiety hit him, he liked to do three things – play guitar, smoke, or get off.

He closed his eyes. In his head he went through every swear word he knew in Swedish and English. He mentally berated himself for joining Smugly Dismissed and associating them with his serious metal gigs. He reminded himself how pretty girls like the little redhead were to smart to get involved with guys like him. No amount of smiling or charm covered up his inability to communicate. He clenched his fists when he thought about his mother and all the boyfriends, nights spent alone wondering if she would come back or finally died. The cruel way kids at school called him a bastard child and whore’s son. This world could eat shit and die for all he cared. He never had nice things therefore he didn’t deserve them now. What was the point in being the best guitarist if no one respected you and there was no one to come home too?

“Yeh okay?”

Skwisgaar nearly choked when he heard her voice.

“Dude, yeh don’t seem fine,” she added.

The blonde opened his eyes and excessively blinked when they started to burn. When his eyes focused, in front of him stood her, dressed in skinny jeans and a black crop top that showed off her belly button. Her black apron protecting the acid wash denim. She looked worried, her green eyes beautifully lined in eyeliner and smudged…she looked like a punk rock wet dream.

Pickles took a step forward into the alcove, her favorite hide away when she needed a few minutes to herself at work. Fancy finding him hiding there with a crushed cigarette in his hand. He appeared to be working through an anxiety attack, she was familiar with those. She could empathize, she understood the responsibility that came with drug addict musicians. His band for a lack of better words sucked at the soundcheck. She noticed his blue eyes studying her, his mouth opening then closing awkwardly as if he didn’t know which language to pick. “How about we smoke?” she suggested.

“Ja,” Skwisgaar said softly.

“Yeh okay with Marlboro?” she asked holding up her package of cigarettes. She didn’t want to assume anything when it came to his English.

Skwisgaar nodded. Since when did he become shy around women?

“What’s yer name?” Pickles asked leaning against the wall next to the blonde. She removed two cigarettes from the pack and tucked them gracefully between her lips. She put the cigarettes back into her apron pocket and fished out her lighter. She smiled around the obstruction in her mouth, the blonde man seemed intrigued, his blue eyes boring into her when she flicked open her Zippo and lit both cigarettes. Pickles inhaled the nicotine off both before handing one over to Blondie.

“Tack,” he said taking a large inhale of nicotine. The smoke flooded his lungs and drown his anxiety, he let the smoke billow from his mouth in a relaxed sigh. The redhead appeared to be amused, a devious side smirk that meant trouble. He liked a girl who flirted through body language, words were sometimes lost on him, but he got her message loud and clear. Her boot clad foot tapped impatiently. It struck him that in his anxiety induced stupor she asked him his name. “Skwisgaar Skwigelf,” he replied.

Pickles mentally repeated his name a few times. Foreign, unique. It rolled off the tongue especially with his accent. It was better than Blondie. It suited him somehow. Skwisgaar Skwigelf, it sounded ethereal, the kind of name you’d hear in mythology.

“Ifs you wants you cans call me Anders or my Christians name Mikael,” he added nervously.

The redhead chuckled, “Nah I like Skwisgaar. It’s a cool name.”

“What ams your names?”

“Rory Donnelley. I guess I got a Christian middle name which is Theresa but don’t ever call me that,” Pickles said.

Skwisgaar looked at her curiously. “Amst Rory a boy names?” he questioned. He didn’t care, he had a balanced sex life. It didn’t make a difference to him if he slept with men or women. He didn’t climb the ranks in his career not to end up on his knees the odd time.

“Yah, that’s a funny story,” Pickles said. She dropped her cigarette to the ground and snubbed it out. “My name was chosen when my parents thought they were having another boy. My mam believed the ring on a string test worked with my older brother and that it predicted another boy. Did yeh know that the name Rory means red-haired king? Fitting huh? I came out with red hair and my mam decided to keep my name as Rory.”

“It ams a pretty name,” Skwisgaar admitted. A pretty name for a gorgeous woman. He could stare at her all day if permitted. She was the type of girl men wrote songs about because they were in love or heartbroken. He’d let her rip his heart out and stamp it under her combat boots if he could be around her again. She inspired him for some reason, he could write solos about her eyes, smile, and the way her accent drawled.

The compliment struck Pickles causing her to blush. She didn’t know what to say to him. He gave her a tiny bit of validation. She craved acceptance, she despised being mocked for her name and heard it a lot from men flirting with her. “Thank you,” she said.

Skwisgaar’s confidence returned. His spell of shyness disappeared the more he talked with her. Her easy-going personality grounded him. He wanted to spend more time with her, know everything about her because she fascinated him. “Cans I take yous on a date?” Skwisgaar asked.

“Yah, I’d like that.”

“Ams going to sees this metal band Dethklok tomorrows. Wants to goes with mes?”

Pickles tried not to allow her expression to falter. She wasn’t ready to explain who she was in the music industry. He wouldn’t understand why she impersonated a man when she performed on stage. “I got to work but can I meet yeh there?” she deflected.

“We cans do someskings else,” Skwisgaar said. He sensed the sudden tension in her voice. He didn’t care what they did long as he got to hang out with her.

It would be near impossible to avoid running into Skwisgaar at the gig. She could opt for honesty; he might be openminded. Lying never sat well with her. She weighed her options quickly. He turned his body inwards towards her to show his interest. His icy blue eyes urging her for an answer. “Can I be honest with yeh?” Pickles asked. Honesty in the long run would be better than lying.

“Ja?” Skwisgaar feared rejection. He braced himself for it. His imagination running wild with possibilities.

“I said I was working…I’m in a band that is performing tomorrow night.”

Skwisgaar raised a blonde eyebrow hinting for her to elaborate.

“That’s also playing at the Depths of Humanity tomorrow night. I can meet yeh after my gig is done,” she said. His curious expression still asking her for more details. He reminded her of Nathan when he didn't know how to approach a topic and feared offending her. “I’m kinda in Dethklok,” she shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal.

“Ams in Dethklok?”

Pickles nodded.

Skwisgaar swallowed thickly. He heard a lot about the band from the locals. He knew about all the musicians who got cut after a few practices or gigs. The band had a particular sound, and it piqued his interest. He had so many questions – What instrument did she play? Why metal? How did she get into a band like Dethklok?

“If that’s weird I get it,” Pickles admitted. When he saw her dressed as a guy that’d be the end of them ever going on an official date.

“Why?” Skwisgaar asked generally.

Pickles sighed, “Dude, I dress like a guy.”

“Ams no big deals,” Skwisgaar huffed. He painted himself up in grease paint to look like an ungodly demon from hell with Agnostic Priest and wore leather pants with Financially Raped. Stage costumes were the least of his worries. He played in his mom’s clothes as a kid, the last thing he cared about was her dressing up like a boy.

“I glue on a fake beard and bind my boobs,” Pickles said incredulously. Skwisgaar continued to look at her as if she told him she had red hair. He appeared to be unbothered by her confession. “You don’t think that’s weird?”

Skwisgaar crossed his arms over his chest. “I likes women more but nothings wrong with men,” he disclosed casually.

“So, can yeh live with me being a guy tomorrow then maybe we go on a real date?”

“Ja, can yous live with mes being at the gigs?” Skwisgaar countered. She said real date, she wanted to go out after tomorrow night! He knew from the aching pull on his lips that he was grinning like a fool. A whole month and he finally had a date with Rory.

Pickles’ red hair bounced as she nodded her head yes. “Yeh should probably go get ready for yer gig. I’ll be watching. I really like Agnostic Priest,” she said.

“Cans I buy yous a drink afters the show?”

“Yeh know where to find me,” Pickles replied. She batted her painted lashes at him playfully.

Skwisgaar shifted uncomfortably against the cold brick. She didn’t even touch him, and he managed to be hot and bothered. “Cans I gets your number toos?” he added.

“Maybe after that drink,” she said giving him a wink. She righted herself abruptly and walked off to get back to work. Nathan might come looking for her or worse, management. She had a little spring in her step as she walked up the loading ramp.

Blondie's name was Skwisgaar Skwigelf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This deviated from my original plan a bit. Might re-write it a bit.  
> Somehow though it feels a bit more organic than the original plan of how Pickles might admit to Skwisgaar she was in Dethklok.  
> I hope you all enjoy this.


	3. Of Dildos & Douchebags

“Shake that ass over this way,” Magnus drunkenly crowed.

Pickles narrowed her green eyes hatefully. “Don’t yeh fuckin’ touch me yeh douchebag,” she snapped shuffled past him in the warmup room.

Magnus playfully slapped her ass then laughed obnoxiously at his accomplishment.

“Back off, asshole,” Nathan warned. He put himself between the two just in case Magnus got handsy again or Pickles went swinging.

“She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” the older man said taking a sip of his beer. He enjoyed tormenting people especially once he got a rise out of them. He got under a person’s skin, crawled deep within to burrow, and gnaw away at any insecurities. He flirted with Pickles which set her off and poked fun at Nathan’s devotion to her.

Two sets of ferocious green eyes stared Magnus down.

That didn’t phase the older man. He now had a bigger podium to stand upon and his audiences’ attention. They both seemed angry about the comment. He could push Nathan a bit further, Pickles would go off any moment. He grinned evilly, “When do Mike and Brett get here?”

“What do yeh mean when does Mike get here?” Pickles asked Magnus then Nathan.

Nathan looked down at her. With the rage steaming off her, he imagined her head blowing up like on a Saturday morning cartoon. The blast radius on her anger would span into next week. Her narrowing glare became lethal enough to poison him from just daring to look at her.

“Oh,” Magnus feigned sympathy. “Did Nathan forget to tell you we needed you on rhythm guitar for the whole gig?”

“Yeh promised me, Nate,” Pickles whispered. Her anger simmering over to be replaced with an uncontrollable urge to cry. She understood that being a versatile musician made her an asset and helped Dethklok. She grew tired of broken promises. Nathan vowed she could permanently move to the drums. The word _soon_ haunted her. Her ability to play guitar held her back, she didn’t mind lending her vocals for harmony because it angered Magnus.

Nathan even in his tall stature cowered. When she asked him about what gear they were taking he told her bring everything. He casually hinted that Mike would be at the gig and he wanted her to play rhythm guitar for The Hammer. He didn’t exactly tell the truth or lie; he genuinely didn’t think about what he said to her. He’d take the blame; she would be mad for a few days then forgive him in her own way. She avoided him like a plague then when she came around it’d either be her sitting with her acoustic mulling over a new song or she’d wrap her arms around him and cry. He considered going out into the venue to drag Blondie backstage to appease her. Her green eyes welling up didn’t help, only served to break his heart into two.

“Awh, Nate promised you that? Cute,” Magnus mocked.

“Fuck off,” Nathan huffed.

Magnus clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch! Those are some fighting words,” he continued.

“You’re acting like a fool,” Nathan said turning away from Pickles. If he looked at her any longer, he might die of discomfort.

“Get your bitch in order. She plays rhythm guitar tonight or I replace her,” Magnus said. He didn’t care about firing people. The sound was the most important part of the band. They could live without Pickles though she opened a lot of doors in the industry. If he cornered her later, he planned to remind her exactly who’s band she played in.

Pickles dropped down into her seat at the make up table and fiddled with the fake mustache and beard she planned to glue on. Custom made to match her hair; the hairs soft but the right amount of itchy to mimic a man’s facial hair. She went to her happy place which consisted of her fondest memories and songs she wrote. She hummed through the lyrics of Water Horsey Blues to calm herself down. Nathan began to hover near her, she felt his magnetic aura meshing with hers. Magnus’ statement upset her most, he made her sound expendable if she didn’t comply with his rules.

“You ain’t replacing, Rory,” Nathan growled.

Magnus shrugged, he took a rewarding swig for all his hard work in pissing off his bandmates. He enjoyed the idle threats he tossed out. Pickles seemed to be kicked down and Nathan would be singing his best tonight because he was fueled by anger .

Nathan dutifully sat next to Pickles to watch her get ready while waiting for Mike and Brett to show up. Soundcheck went seamlessly as usual all that was left to do was damage control. Pickles would act professional, she always did even when Magnus became a thorn in her side. His silent presence both feeding her need for support and pissing her off more.

Out in the venue Skwisgaar suffered a similar fate.

William chased after every woman in sight. His desperation wafting off him like a great stink cloud. When his mission failed, he returned to his friend’s side to bitterly complain. His arrogance just as extreme as his desperate nature. Four beers in he got more boisterous about his distaste for women and rejection. William made a perfect repellent when it came to the opposite sex approaching them. Keeping the company of a hobgoblin worked in his favor sometimes. Tonight however, he kept his drinking to a minimum and William became rather annoying as they stood around waiting for the gigs to start.

“You used to be cool,” he slurred.

Skwisgaar side eyed him.

“Common, Skwisgaar! Help me get a chick,” William whined. His incessant pestering didn’t get him any further. Skwisgaar’s newfound interest in this redheaded chick meant no one else existed to him. He prayed that as soon as his friend finally conquered her, things would return to normal and they could hunt the venues again.

“You ams being annoying. The ladies hates that.”

William rolled his hazel eyes.

“Tries laying offs the booze and don’ts open your mouth,” Skwisgaar suggested. He usually could smooth talk a pair of girls into coming home with them and he always felt sleezy leaving one of them for William. The guy tried too hard, he had the makings of a gentleman sprinkled with a disgusting obsession with piss and entitlement to affection. No matter how many times he promised his friend there was a girl out there for him, that didn’t seem to quell his need for affection. It must have been the lack of parents that caused that need. Not that Skwisgaar had any right to pass judgement, he also strived for attention and acceptance. They were similar in that regard the only difference being that the blonde got blessed with good looks.

“They’re just stupid,” the curly haired man bitched.

Skwisgaar sighed. Another pointless conversation, nothing he said would reach William when he got this way. The guy just needed to chill out, let the conversation flow naturally and maybe ditch the leather vest. He tried teaching William on numerous occasions how to act around women. He speculated that his friend liked men. Suggesting such a notion to a ‘closeted’ homophobe like William could have devastating effects. Better to leave those kinds of self discoveries to oneself.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” William asked curiously. Skwisgaar’s tall form towered over most of the people standing near the stage waiting for the show to start. He agreed to see this band Dethklok perform because of the rumors. They didn’t have a permanent bass player; they didn’t have a permanent rhythm guitarist or drummer either. William saw an opportunity, there might be a chance for them to audition with Skwisgaar’s connection. He could assume the redhead played alternate, who let a chick into a band? Small hands were useless for string instruments.

“She is nots my girlfriend,” the blonde snapped back.

William swallowed back the last of his beer getting most of it into his mouth. “Schure,” he teased. “I need another beer.”

“Nos you don’ts.”

“Jeezy, we both need one. You got to lighten up.”

Skwisgaar huffed his signature ‘pfft’ of disapproval before crossing his arms over his chest. He took to another impatient habit, running the ball of his tongue piercing against the roof of his mouth. William was right, he needed to lighten up. She would be amazing, Dethklok probably too. They’d meet up after for drinks and dancing.

He worried about his clothes. His friend laughed at him when he walked into their living room dressed in a pair of ripped acid wash blue jeans, white t-shirt, plaid shirt, and skull belt. A subtle mix of rock and punk with a worn pair of black High Tops. He thought he looked okay for this type of gig. Hopefully, Rory thought so. He even made sure to have a lighter in his pocket this time so he could be the one lighting her cigarette if they got to hide away in the alley.

The house lights suddenly shut off and the thrumming of heavy rock playing over the speakers died. William found his way back to the stage and handed Skwisgaar a beer. The opening band played a rather upbeat rock, not what either of them expected but not bad. Tolerable for the thirty minutes the bands were allotted. The following band a bit heavier, a punk group that Skwisgaar really enjoyed. The third band was easily forgettable, William snuck off to get them more beer.

When Dethklok finally emerged for the closing show, Skwisgaar found himself bubbling with anticipation. He took stock of each band member. The leader singer he recognized as one of the club bouncers. The drummer was the lanky sort, he looked almost identical to the bass player who was similarly built with long hair, a set of twins no doubt. Next came a tall man with long thick curls and a goatee, he carried himself with an air of superiority clinging to a Les Paul guitar. Lastly, a short redhead with a scowl clomped onto the stage with a Gibson Gold Top Les Paul in hand.

The crowd went wild.

The burly lead singer grunted out a hateful greeting sending the audience into a rabid madness of cheers. Skwisgaar knew heavy metal and he nearly landed on his ass from the force of the music coming off the speakers. All around him the crowd became feral, almost like an ancient species worshiping the Gods through dance before a sacrifice. The sound unlike anything he ever heard in his life, heavy and dark, borderline ritualistic. He feared it, he was drawn to it, and he needed to play it. The sound was Heaven and Hell on earth, purgatory for the listener. The purest of metal sounds. The brutalist poetry being spewed from the most talented vocal source he ever heard. The back vocals from Rory the sincerest compliment to his voice. The guitars melded into perfect harmonies, his brain mentally mapping out the duet and how he could improve it. He didn’t care about the bass or drums, his attention landed on his girl.

Rory dressed as a man looked familiar, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he saw him somewhere before. Her as a man was equally attractive as her as a woman. She played guitar better than the curly haired man, what a shame to waste her talent on the rhythm part. He wondered if she’d play guitar with him, they could have a lot of fun playing together. He didn’t miss the glare she shot over to the lead guitarist, their eyes communicating an intimidating stand off. She backed down, moving across the stage, whipping her red hair that was tied back into a low pony with a dark blue bandana keeping the wild tresses away from her eyes.

Song after song, Skwisgaar became obsessed with the band. He watched Rory wander back towards the lead guitarist in the middle of the set. Her green eyes challenging him again and then her fingers launched into a well practiced sequence of triplets and sixteenth notes. Skwisgaar awed over her sudden solo, she played as if her life depended on it and she only had this moment left to say her final words through song. The lead guitarist appeared to be pissed off while he caught up to her. It didn’t seem to be planned, she was improvising, and he had no choice but to follow her.

Beside him William caught the primal metal dance fever.

Skwisgaar not so easily moved to dance observed his surroundings and Rory. Her solo ended; the control handed back over to the lead guitarist who’s look read danger. She swayed her way over to the lead singer and stayed there the remainder of the show. The blonde chuckled when she tripped over her foot getting a little to into headbanging. It disappointed him that the sets were only half an hour, Dethklok’s gig was winding down and he longed for more to satisfy his musical hunger.

The lead singer took pause before they played the last song to introduce the band. His gruff voice blunt as he addressed his audience. “Before we end our show, we are Dethklok!” he growled. “Filling in on drums and bass Mike and Brett Rossetti, on lead guitar Magnus Hammersmith and last but not least Pickles of Snakes N Barrels on rhythm guitar!”

Pickles leaned into her mic, “Let’s not forget Nathan Explosion on vocals! Everyone give this fucker a round of applause!”

The audience erupted into a sea of applause for the band. They hardly basked in the afterglow, they decided bidding their audience a brutal goodbye suited them more. William’s curls bounced as he continued to thrash around next to him, Skwisgaar stood there dumbfounded with his mouth agape.

With a final ‘fuck you all’ they exited the stage. The house lights returned to a medium dim, the sounds of classic rock flipped back on the speakers and everyone dispersed in various directions of the club. Some went to drink or smoke, others left, and the remaining hung out to dance. William went chasing after a group of girls in mini skirts and fishnets.

Skwisgaar got left behind with an empty beer bottle in his hand. He decided to go backstage to find Rory. He weaved his way through the diminishing crowd and had no issue slipping into the back hall permitted only for staff and performers.

He tossed his empty bottle into the crates lining the halls and made a sharp left turn to the warmup rooms. He passed fleeing band members racing towards the bar and dance floor. He stopped outside of the room with the handmade sign reading Dethklok, he didn’t know how welcome he would be if he walked in. He leaned against the wall and waited, Rory said she would meet him.

After loading off their gear into their warmup room the screaming match began. Magnus instigated it, Pickles continued it, and Nathan tried to get in between them before it became a bloodbath. The fighting caused the Rossetti twins to pack up and ask if they could have their money dropped off. Their hasty exit strategy worked in their favor, Mike and Brett made themselves disappear in two trips out to their van.

Skwisgaar’s attentive nature awarded him a glimpse into the room when the door flew open. Insight into the madness that made Dethklok so great, they appeared to hate one another. He got four chances to witness the insanity then goatee guy slammed the door open storming off, muttering angrily under his breath. That left his girl and Nathan in the room. Skwisgaar gathered his wits and decided to walk into the room unannounced.

“I know you’re mad but did you really need to fuck with his guitar solo?” Nathan asked. He took his time to coil the instrument cables properly as he cleaned up their gear.

Pickles turned around in her seat to give her friend a piece of her mind when she noticed a tall blonde angel standing in the dressing room. Her resting bitch face flipped into a giant grin. “Hey, Skwisgaar!” she yelled.

Nathan blew his hair out of face to look at the blonde standing awkwardly by the door. “You’re seriously a godsend,” he grunted. He tossed the coiled cable into a milkcrate then straightened himself up. “I better go check on Magnus’ ego. I’ll bring back some beers?” he offered.

“I’ll finish packing up the gear,” Pickles said.

“Damn right you will. Be good.”

Pickles rolled her green eyes at Nathan. He gave Skwisgaar a look that suggested he should be good too. Nathan’s body language similar to a protective father. “Don’t let Magnus break any glasses out on that dance floor, yeh hear?” she added.

“He starts that then I get to throw him in the dumpster,” Nathan said. He pulled open the door and left. He owed the dark forces for sending Blondie in, Pickles’ mood escalated from anger to livid with rage and his presence awarded them some peace. Then again, Pickles was easier to deal with than an angry Magnus. Sighing, he decided two beers were needed before he got talked at for an hour.

“You ams a shit stirrers,” Skwisgaar said. He walked over to the vacant seat next to Pickles and sat down. Even up close she was a vision of beauty.

Pickles languidly stretched in her chair and stuck out her tongue mischievously.

Skwisgaar eyed the silver ball pierced through her dainty tongue and stuck his own tongue out in response. Her hooting laughter as pleasant as her guitar playing. “I likes what I sees,” he admitted.

“Dude, we could have fun,” Pickles said with a flirtatious edge.

“You really Pickle of Snake N Barrel?”

Pickles sighed, “No one took me seriously when I was Rory. She got unwanted attention from men; Pickles got respect because he was a cute boy. People wanted him and knew they couldn’t have him.”

“The worlds wanted Pickle,” Skwisgaar said. He remembered watching Snakes N Barrels on MTV and being infatuated with Pickles. Those red cowboy boots and the seductive way he danced gave him a fever. Provided his teenage mind with a lot of material to work with when he needed to relax. He tried not to fanboy over her career, didn’t think mentioning he collected all her cassettes and magazines would impress her. She revealed a big secret to him, she showed him trust by sharing this information. She wanted respect and he could give that to her.

“That’s why Pickles the Performer and Rory are two different people,” Pickles said. She started to slowly pick at her glued-on mustache and beard. Transitioning back to Rory always felt right after a show even if everyone still called her Pickles. “I don’t party as hard as I did in my Snakes N Barrels days. Kind of grew up minus starting fights with douchebags.”

Skwisgaar smiled, “Ja, leads guitarist seems likes a dildo.”

“Oh, the biggest dildo!”

“Yours guitar solo am what can I calls it?” Skwisgaar pondered. He hated English. What he wanted to say made so much sense in Swedish and translating it made his head hurt.

Pickles knew not to put words in his mouth. It would be rude to cut off his thought process and speak for him. While he worked it out, she provided him with her opinion. “I’d call it brave. Magnus is going to absolutely crucify me at band practice for pulling that stunt,” she said. To emphasize her point she pulled off her mustache.

“I gots to knows you musically,” Skwisgaar said. “Yous put everythings in when you plays.”

“I got a lot of demons,” Pickles warned. She finally worked off the beard from her face and set it aside with the mustache. She appreciated Skwisgaar’s compliment about her playing, she appreciated it more that he didn’t ask her every detail of her Snakes N Barrels days.

Skwisgaar shuffled his chair a bit closer to hers and pulled her calloused left hand into his hands. His touch ghosted over her palm; her hands were tiny compared to his. Her fingertips were rough though the rest of her hands were soft. “I gots them too,” he said tracing up each finger.

“I start fights,” Pickles whispered. She melted into the soothing way he touched her hand. It became intimate in such a simple way. He seemed like the type to savor his interactions instead of rushing to the end goal.

“Ams jealous sometimes.”

Pickles dropped her right hand into her lap to allow him the chance to touch her further. “I drink and smoke too much,” she added.

“Me toos,” Skwisgaar chuckled. He took hold of her other hand and worshipped it in the same way. Traced over the hands of a seasoned musician, a man known around the world, a talented woman unknown to anyone but him and her closest friends.

“I’m damaged yeh know,” she said. The timeline started from birth. She grew up in a house full of verbal and mental abuse. There was only one notable time that her dad slapped her. He backed out of her room with a look of terror etched on his face, he didn’t look at her for a week after the incident. He couldn't look at her the same way again until he stated, ‘ _Get out of here. You belong in a garbage can’_ before she left at sixteen. Her interactions with Seth were a whole other level of abuse that she repressed. Tony groomed her and made her believe he was her savior. She bowed to him for giving her a place to sleep and a band to perform in. She kept up her end of bargains, he got her hooked-on drugs when they got famous and it was all downhill from there. She believed it was love. Tony did his fair share of tormenting her, abused her in every way possible, wore her down until she laid there and let him do whatever he wanted. It kept the peace, the band functioned reasonably well long as she laid on her back after the gig. The fight taken from her during her drug fuelled years. Getting clean by checking herself into rehab and breaking up with the band saved her life. She became liberated, a whole new person and then she met Nathan. The big guy loved her, he wanted her to be happy and took her away to Tampa. He made a better friend than a lover, they tried for six months and settled on a platonic relationship that suited them. She accomplished a lot in twenty-three years, a lot of what hurt her in the past she overcame, she put it into more productive mediums. Skwisgaar might not want to deal with her once he got to know her. Not everyone had the gift like Nathan when it came to understanding her intricate workings.

Skwisgaar hated that word. Damaged…pfft. He got offended when someone pointed out he was emotionally damaged. He couldn’t help being born to the most promiscuous woman in Sweden with no father in sight. They were poor living beyond their means. He couldn’t count the nights he was hungry or cold, dropped off with his grandfather, left home alone. He became fiercely independent because of his mother’s lack of parenting. All his suffering from school and home were put into guitar. As much as he hated the word _damaged_ , if it hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t be here now. “I grows up damage too,” he said. He held her upturned hands in his as his thumbs traced over the single silver scars on each of her wrists.

“Happened when I was sixteen,” she divulged.

“Rory,” Skwisgaar said softly. “Whens you ready to tells me you can.”

Pickles nodded, “Thanks.”

“I ams self con-conk conkscious abouts speakings English.”

The redhead frowned, “Why? I understand yeh. Think yer accent is sexy.”

“Gets made fun ofs a lot. Am tryings my best,” Skwisgaar said. He bit back the smile over her comment about his accent being sexy. He never saw it as sexy when he fumbled through the English language. He never got a chance to talk to anyone about his insecurities. When he tried to with William the topic flipped to how hard life was for the curly haired man. Skwisgaar learned to stop complaining about his problems to his friend. Rory made it easy because they shared back and forth, she seemed to care and that gave him a confidence boost.

“Those people are douchebags.”

The blonde blushed, she really made him feel good. He took in her beauty, without all the make up she still looked gorgeous with big green eyes and sharp cheekbones, her button nose the cutest feature on her face followed by pouty lips. She had a fair bit of metal pierced into her face, her ears housed three piercings, a single fine silver ring pierced through her nostril, the hidden gem that was her tongue piercing, and her eyebrows pierced in pairs on each brow. Somewhere under her clothes he assumed there were some tattoos. He didn’t noticed the freckles on her skin because she hid them under make up. He never got this infatuated with a woman before and it had nothing to do with her revealing she was Pickles of Snakes N Barrels. “You are so beautifuls as Pickle and Rory,” he mused. He meant it; she made a beautiful human being.

“Yeh okay if I change quick?” Pickles asked. She ever so gently pulled her hands away from Skwisgaar’s grasp and stood up.

“Ja,” Skwisgaar said. He got up too and went over to the piles of gear laying around on the floor. He bent down to grab a cable to coil. With his back turned, he gave her privacy to get changed.

Pickles eyed him for a second to make sure he didn’t turn around then pulled her shirt off over her head. She quickly wiggled her way out of her binder in exchange for her bra. Nathan would cuss her out for wearing that ripped up black tank top that hardly covered her bra. She smoothed out the material over her bra to make sure it covered her breasts. She pulled her hair out of the low hanging ponytail and ruffled it. “Hey, Skwisgaar yeh don’t got to do that,” she said.

“I don’ts mind,” Skwisgaar replied.

“No, I mean if yeh wanna help my gear is over by the couch,” she laughed. She didn’t believe Magnus deserved to have his gear packed up by anyone. “Magnus is particular about how things are done so I wouldn’t touch his gear,” she warned.

Skwisgaar dropped the cable and shuffled away from the lead guitarists gear. He moved over to Pickles’ gear to start putting things away.

“Yeh okay to hang out for a bit? I’m not ready to head back out there,” Pickles asked removing the strap off her beloved guitar and placing it in the open case.

“Ja, longs as I am hangings out with yous. Can I asks you somethings?”

Pickles hummed her approval, “Ask away, hun.”

“Does you stills want to goes on that date withs me?” Skwisgaar asked. He bubbled over her calling him hun. The only woman who called him pet names was his mother and that made him cringe.

The redhead flicked a guitar pick at Skwisgaar and laughed at him when he jumped. “Of course. I’m free Saturday night if that works,” she said pocketing her remaining picks.

“Saturdays ams perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now all the players have entered the story!!  
> I spent a lot of time with interactions and perceptions this chapter. I believe Magnus would be that pain in the ass planning how to annoy everyone around him for fun and Murderface would be a frustrating idiot friend you still love but can't stand. 
> 
> I really cannot wait to get to writing the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy this. I know I am really enjoying writing in this fandom right now! 
> 
> Happy Reading <3


	4. The Waltz of Idiots

Nathan huffed out an irritated groan.

He feared bargaining into Pickles’ room to turn off her stereo. He already slammed his fist on the door and screamed for her to turn down her music. She didn’t seem to care that he wanted to watch football in peace.

The whole apartment stank of girl. Hairspray, perfume, bubble bath, deodorant, and scented candles. The only smell he could stand was the stink of weed and cigarettes wafting around her when she hurried out to the balcony to smoke.

Pickles acted like a nervous wreck.

Nathan stopped her a few times to compliment her. She looked beautiful; he didn’t understand how she didn’t see it. Her issue continued to be what to do with her hair. He suggested backcombing it and leaving it alone. The signature Pickles puff red hair suited her. When her door was open, he saw her laying out a few outfits on the bed. Her selections were all different, a dress, skirt, jeans, leather pants, and overalls. She had a closet and draws full of clothes. Nathan thought she looked fetching in the green velvet dress she tried on, she twirled in front of the mirror, pulled on a pair of black tights then fussed over the long sleeves. Nathan approved of her covering up instead of showing so much skin. He liked her favorite go too outfit of jeans and a band tee. She could wear a paper bag and still be the prettiest girl in the room. Skwisgaar was a fool if he couldn’t see that.

The music switched from The Misfit to the Smashing Pumpkins, Patti Smith and the Romans followed. She stomped out of her bedroom to stress smoke on the balcony then returned to her room to blast Iron Maiden.

Which brought them to now.

He turned up the volume on the tv again to drown out her music. He imagined her battling her hair like one of the X-Men fighting Magneto. She most likely was leaned over teasing the undercoat of her hair, headbanging along with the music and dancing around to test if her hair would stay put. She'd kill Skwisgaar if he touched her hair. Nathan learned how hard she slapped when he purposely ruffled her hair. Sleeping next to her for those six months taught him how annoying it was to breathe in her hair while he slept. Lord knew her hair clung to everything in the apartment. Nathan found her hair on all his possessions. When he complained about it, his mom told him to get used to it.

He couldn’t concentrate on the game, the music got to loud for him to focus. He got easily distracted with everyday tasks and didn’t appreciate being bothered in his downtime. “Augh, I wanna kill her,” he mumbled. He got up from his side of the couch and walked over to her bedroom to slam his fist on the door again.

“Whatya want!?”

“Rory, common I want to watch the game!”

Pickles threw the door open, not caring that she stood in front of him in her black lingerie. “I’m having a crisis, dude! Can yeh give me some space?” she pleaded.

“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked. He leaned against the door frame and averted his eyes. He didn’t ogle her even if he liked lacey lingerie.

The redhead frowned, “I’m bloated.”

Nathan’s eyes gave her the quick once over, he didn’t allow his gaze to linger long and looked back up at her face. “High waisted jeans and which band tee do you like best?” he asked curiously.

“The Guns N Roses one,” she grumbled. She trudged over to the bed to pick up the t-shirt and pulled it on over her head. She wiggled into her Levi’s next. She stood next to the bed looking defeated while she pulled at the shirt.

“Come here,” Nathan said. When she didn’t budge, he walked into the room and stopped in front of her. He knew he was permitted to touch her, if she shrunk away, he would back up respectfully. He entered her space and grabbed onto the hem of her shirt to tie the fabric into a knot. Showing at tiny bit of skin gave the outfit sex appeal. “Better,” he muttered.

Pickles weakly smiled. She bubbled with nerves. The last time she went on a date was when she met Nathan. “Thanks, Nate. I’m really nervous about tonight,” she admitted.

“Don’t be. The guy seems decent.”

“He wouldn’t tell me what we were doing,” Pickles said chewing at her lip. “What if I’m dressed inappropriately?”

Nathan chuckled, “Jeans and a t-shirt are perfect. Save the dress for another date.”

“What if he doesn’t wanna go on another date with me dude?”

“How can you say that? The guy is cool with you dressing up like a guy. He seems respectful which is the most important thing here. Listen to me,” Nathan said pointing to himself. “You deserve to be respected and happy. You should be excited that someone wants you for you not Pickles of Snakes N Barrels or Dethklok. He noticed Rory first not Pickles. That should count for something.”

Pickles wrapped her arms around Nathan and hugged his muscular body. The big guy returned the hug by giving her a big squeeze. He was the brother she always wanted. She felt safe with Nathan, he protected her at her most vulnerable and she appreciated that he looked out for her. Before she could thank him for being patient with her the phone rang. Pickles froze up.

Nathan grunted, “Fucking hate that phone.”

The phone ruined everything. Whenever they were having a heartfelt moment or a serious conversation someone called. Chances were slim it would be Nathan’s parents. Usually the Donnelley clan calling to stir up drama once a week. Tony already called, Nathan claimed Pickles wasn’t home and took a message. By deduction it was either Skwisgaar or a Donnelley sensing a disturbance in their daughter’s life.

“Can yeh get it?” Pickles asked. She released Nathan from her grasp and stepped away. She busied herself with putting her clothes away to avoid answering the phone. She worried it would be Seth, he didn’t call yet this week. For Christmas or his birthday, she would indulge him in a short conversation. For her birthday she took the phone off the hook and enjoyed the silence.

Nathan hurried off into the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the cradle. “Hello?” he said.

“Hallå, cans I speak withs Rory please?”

“Sure, let me see if she’s available,” Nathan said. He placed his hand over the receiver and hollered loudly for the redhead. She appeared in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. Nathan mouthed that it was Skwisgaar which prompted her to wave her arms wildly. She looked ridiculous mouthing back to him something he couldn’t make out. Her dance of the Lovestruck Idiots continued as she tried to communicate through sign what she wanted him to do. “She’s in the middle of doing to her make up, Skwisgaar. Can I get her to call you back?” he questioned. He shot Pickles a rather irritated look, he didn’t mind covering for her, but she didn’t have a lot left to do aside from putting on mascara.

“Ams wonder when she plans to drive over. I wants to makes sure I ams ready,” Skwisgaar admitted. He cleaned his apartment, threatened William about making a mess and got himself ready. He played guitar until he couldn’t sit still any longer.

Nathan noticed the other man’s discomfort on the phone. “Do you like football?” he asked curiously.

“Ja,” Skwisgaar answered.

“How about I come pick you up and we can watch the game while Rory finishes getting ready,” Nathan suggested.

Pickles mouthing a no went ignored.

Nathan wrote down the address on the magnetic pad of paper on the fridge then hung up. He peeked back into the living room to see Pickles standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “He’s probably bored waiting around at home. Let him come over here and hang out. Means I can get to know who you’re going out with,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Douchebag,” she muttered. She walked back into her room to continue getting ready. She knew her anger was misplaced. Nathan saved her a trip across town, that meant the guys could bond over football and a beer. It would make the transition for Nathan easier and help Skwisgaar accept that she lived with another man. All she saw were positives instead of negatives.

“I’m not a douchebag,” Nathan yelled.

He already liked Skwisgaar. The guy helped them load up the gear after the gig and didn’t try to get to handsy with Pickles. He gave her a tender smooch on the forehead when he walked her out to the truck at the end of the night. He politely said goodbye to Nathan too. He left a general good impression. Unlike Tony who hovered about in that territorial manner. Skwisgaar also complimented Nathan’s lyrics, a professional gesture between artists that the big guy wasn’t used too. He enjoyed the right to boast that he indeed wrote a song thought he gave credit to Pickles where it was due.

He grabbed the spare truck keys from the bowl on the kitchen table and hurried out of the apartment. Pickles needed some time to be alone. He assumed she would panic clean the apartment when he left. He beamed over the realization that he got control over the stereo. The passenger always got to choose the music and he wouldn’t let Skwisgaar know about that car rule unless Pickles shared that vital information. The glove box was stacked with cassettes and he planned to enjoy some Black Sabbath without his friend complaining.

Nathan navigated the familiar roads; he took the long way to enjoy his music and give Pickles time to process everything. She would have one of her meltdowns because of her looming period then she’d be fine. Skwisgaar didn’t live to far from them. He lived in a safe neighborhood. Nathan remembered looking at apartments with Pickles in that area when they moved to Tampa. They chose to spend a bit more money for the added luxury of the in-suite laundry. Pickles kept saying she didn’t want to go alone into creepy laundry rooms. Nathan snickered at the admission until he saw the state of some of those laundry rooms. Suddenly an extra hundred dollars a month seemed like nothing.

He didn’t care how many jobs he needed to pay the rent for the apartment they settled on. To see Pickles relax for the first time in a month meant they were doing the right thing even if it cost them more in the long run. That peace only lasted a month when the Donnelley’s and Tony found her. She cried about it, screamed at Sammy for telling Tony who in turn contacted her family. The letters from Wisconsin State Prison showed two weeks later.

No matter what state she went too, the distance she put between herself and others they caught up to her. They acted offended that she dropped off the face of the planet, they injected themselves into her life and took out their frustrations upon her when she didn’t reciprocate their love.

Pickles could defend himself – a true fighting Irishman.

Rory ever the little spitfire also carried a lot of empathy and guilt. She attributed a lot of her current struggle of socializing with others and starting fights with her upbringing. She apologized all the time because she wanted to be a better person.

It killed Nathan. She didn’t need to apologize for standing up for herself. She spent sixteen years in an abusive home, five years being taken advantage of by an older man, and two years free from being tormented. Unfortunately, Magnus aggravated her. They knew each other in passing on the festival circuits. Nathan tried his best to keep them civilized. He suspected Magnus made inappropriate moves based on her sudden silence at band practices. He asked her many times, reassured her that she could come to him if something happened. He knew she could beat the shit out of the older man, she fought nasty and Magnus would come out hurt. After witnessing the ass slap at the gig, Nathan kept a closer eye on them.

Skwisgaar seemed to be a trustworthy guy.

Nathan didn’t like the idea of ~~Pickles~~ Rory dating. He wanted to protect her, remain her best friend and go on Friender Benders with her. He worried he’d end up like Tony, tossed away like the B side of Snakes N Barrels final record. He never raised a hand to her, took advantage of her or tossed the apartment in a rage. He told her that he feared losing her friendship. She looked at him with the sweetest smile and said that would never happen. They were each others family. Two outcasts who understood being unique and lonely.

The happiness she exuded lately because of her crush on Skwisgaar inspired her. She wrote a lot of lyrics that were about being eviscerated by love. Her drumming got heavier, her guitar competing even more with Magnus’ metal style and elevating herself to Skwisgaar’s level. Her voice still as beautiful and sweet as ever got edgier, her metal growl improved and harmonized with Nathan’s voice perfectly. He admired her contributions to band practice the day before even if Magnus screamed at her over the guitar solo.

He circled the block one last time before pulling up in front of the apartment building. Sitting on the steps outside was Skwisgaar smoking. The blonde snubbed out his cigarette on the pavement and hurried over to the truck. He greeted Nathan when he got in, he fidgeted with his hair and complimented the music choice. Next came the fidgeting over a rip in his jeans accompanied by an averted gaze.

“Nervous?” Nathan asked.

Skwisgaar sighed, “Ja, ams worried she won’ts enjoy what I plans.”

“Well run it by me,” Nathan said. He drove off and took the long way back to the apartment. He found it funny how nervous these two were about the date. It was cute in a brutal way. He found them repulsive in the most respectful manner.

“I am wantings to take her outs to eat but I don’ts know what she likes,” Skwisgaar started. “I gots ticket to sees this girls punk band the Grunge Kittens. Thoughts maybe movies at mys place afterward.”

Nathan turned down the volume on the stereo a bit before addressing the blonde. “Take her for nachos and beers at Flanagan’s Pub. If she’s going back to your place then be respectful,” he warned. His protective side came out unintentionally.

“I wouldn’ts try anything,” Skwisgaar said defensively. He didn’t plan to sleep with Pickles on the first date. He set boundaries for himself, he was looking for a relationship not a one-night stand.

“If you hurt her, I’ll break your hands.”

Skwisgaar nodded obediently.

After the threats of bodily harm, Nathan lightened up. While scaring Skwisgaar was fun, he mentally heard Pickles chastising him for tormenting her date. “Rory looks beautiful by the way,” he added.

“I bets. She ams always stunning,” Skwisgaar gushed.

“Tell her that because she’s been driving me crazy all day pacing around in a panic about tonight,” Nathan blurted.

Skwisgaar bit back a smirk. He picked at the fraying threads on his jeans again to keep himself occupied and avoid staring at the other man. He sensed the fondness in Nathan’s voice when he spoke about Pickles. He loved her and whatever threats he made to protect her were probably true. “Ams guilty of makings my roommate mads today too,” he said.

“She’ll be stress cleaning the apartment right now,” Nathan grumbled. He already cleaned the place when she asked him too. Knowing her, she worried Skwisgaar would see the kitchen or bathroom.

“I cleans so much today,” Skwisgaar replied. Threating William resulted in the explosive fight of why he didn’t secure a date for him too. Skwisgaar explained he needed the apartment to stay clean while he was out and not to be a creep if she stayed over. William stomped around like a whiny first grader left out of a game of tag and went to hide in his room. The one place that didn’t smell of bleach and incense to cover up the smell of tobacco. 

Nathan rolled his eyes…of course the two of them would be obsessed with cleaning. Add that to the list of being in bands, guitar, smoking, and whatever else they liked.

“What shoulds I know?”

The question surprised Nathan. He furrowed his brow in concentration. Where should he start? The blonde obviously meant to ask out of respect. “She’s got asthma and keeps her inhaler in her purse. If she’s moody its low blood sugar so just feed her or she’s a mean little gremlin. She’ll tell you if you cross the line with her,” he offered.

“Ams there anythings you want to knows about me?” Skwisgaar asked. He had nothing to hide, he believed in being honest about who he was and his intentions.

“What drew you to Rory?”

Skwisgaar blushed over the question. There were lots of reasons from personality to appearance. He noticed her copper red hair first then her jade green eyes. Her teeth were straight, obviously she had braces, and she took pride in the smile she wore when she talked to patrons. That pleasant smile accompanied with her bubbly personality drew him in. When she went to collect the abandoned bottles around the bar, he saw her thin body with an average sized butt and decent sized chest. Her clothes complimented her body, he noticed how fashionable she dressed. Her accent was the most unique one he heard since he moved to America. When they started to talk and hang out a bit more, he enjoyed her company. She put him at ease, allowed him to drop his guard and stop worrying about being judged. She didn’t put words in his mouth or correct him, she didn’t talk at him then become frustrated when he didn’t understand. She seemed to like him for himself not his semi-fame in the metal band scene or his looks. How could he choose one thing? Nathan’s question came loaded with the potential to get his ass kicked if he objectified Pickles. So, he settled for the logical answer, “I likes her smile whens she talk to me.”

“She has a nice smile. There’s got to be more,” Nathan pushed.

“Rory ams beautiful and I likes talkings with her. She ams honests,” Skwisgaar said.

That answer pleased the overly protective side of Nathan. He liked the guy more because he didn’t have to lay awake worrying after Pickles tonight. He grunted out his approval and pulled the car into the apartment parking lot. He looked forward to a peaceful evening of drinking and watching sports highlights. When they got out of the truck, Skwisgaar silently followed him up the exterior stairs to the second level balcony. Nathan couldn’t hear Iron Maiden through the front door though the smell of cigarettes stank up the doorway. Pickles came out to chain smoke while she waited for them to get back.

The inside of the apartment got drenched in Pine-Sol cleaner. Nathan wrinkled his nose as he entered the apartment, Pickles accomplished a lot in the thirty minutes of him being gone.

Skwisgaar however didn’t notice the smell of cleaning products. He noted the band equipment in the far corner of the living room, the furniture all matched without stab marks in the arms. Dishes weren’t piled up on every available countertop or in the sink. There weren’t beer cans littering the floor or clothes laying about as if it were a teenager’s bedroom. Pickles and Nathan kept their apartment in order, what he lived in would be considered livable. He lost his nerve and screamed in Swedish about the pizza boxes, beer cans, and used tissues surrounding the couch. William shrugging him off until it became clear this turned women off coming back to a dump. That led to the age-old question _‘Does she have any single friends?’_

“Rory Glory we’re back!” Nathan yelled tauntingly. She might slap him later for telling Skwisgaar her nickname. He enjoyed playing with fire and teasing her.

He couldn’t tease her too much once he looked in the fridge. She re-stocked the beers along with thawing Nathan’s supper. A sticky note sat on top of the foil covered lasagna with instructions on how to cook it. He grabbed two beers and returned to the living room. Skwisgaar was standing around awkwardly waiting for some guidance.

“Come sit,” Nathan said dropping down onto the couch. The blonde eventually budged and gingerly sat down next to him. He handed a can over to the other man. He turned his focus to the tv instead of interrogating Skwisgaar. The poor guy played with the tab on his beer after he opened it. The game continued to be uneventful, Nathan knocked back one beer while his guest nursed his. He didn’t know how to cut the tension forming between him and Skwisgaar, he considered offering him a cigarette or watching something else.

Skwisgaar mentally struggled with his words until he got the nerve to start a conversation. “How longs you knows Rory?” he whispered.

“Ah, two years.”

“Are yous okay with this?” he asked next.

Nathan grunted at the question. How much did Pickles tell Skwisgaar about their relationship? The blonde’s blue eyes bore into him waiting for a response. “We ah dated for six months. We make better friends than a couple,” he replied.

“We’re like family.”

Both Skwisgaar and Nathan looked up at the same time to catch a glimpse of Pickles standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Her backcombed red hair flowed down her back, her make up a dark smoky eye with smudged eyeliner. She didn’t change her outfit, she remained in the knotted Guns N Roses t-shirt with the high waisted jeans, and Doc Martens. To complete her outfit, she was wearing her favorite leather motorcycle jacket.

“You looks stunning,” Skwisgaar complimented.

Pickles teetered on her heels like a giddy child. “So do you,” she grinned. Skwisgaar’s outfit was simple. Jeans, Converse, a Def Leppard shirt, and a denim jacket. He looked cool, the type of guy she would go after. She fell for Nathan because of a letterman jacket and long inky hair. Tony wanted to be Slash and she developed quite a crush when he got a top hat to go with his aesthetic.

Nathan nearly gagged. The two of them were disgusting with all that lovey dovey stuff. “Brutal,” he mumbled mockingly.

“Yer dinner is gonna take sixty minutes,” Pickles directed at Nathan. “Want me to start it before I leave?”

The raven-haired man glared at her.

Pickles smirked.

They knew each other well enough they could communicate through expressions. Nathan didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Skwisgaar that Pickles did all the cooking in their home. She however didn’t seem to mind that she took on a maternal role.

She sauntered into the living room, plucking both Skwisgaar and Nathan’s beer cans from their hands and went into the kitchen to preheat the oven.

Nathan and Skwisgaar’s eyes both trailed her as she walked off.

“Odin,” the blonde muttered.

“What you said.”

The men stared dumbly at her in the kitchen. Neither of them got up to help, they watched the magnificent creature that was Pickles, glam rock idol of the tail end of the 80’s and early 90’s putting a lasagna into the oven. Both men drooling over two different things. Nathan because he really liked her cooking, Skwisgaar really liked her butt in the tight jeans she wore.

“Stop staring at me yeh weirdos,” she bellowed. She felt their eyes on her while she waited for the oven to heat. Men were weird especially the two sitting in the living room staring at her as if she invented lasagna and the oven.

“You looks so pretties.”

Nathan nodded along, “And you make great food.”

Pickles pivoted on her heels and came face to face with the guys. Blue eyes and green eyes trained on her in a predatory way. “Yeh ready to head out Skwisgaar?” she asked.

The blonde obediently got up and went to stand by the door. Pickles looked to Nathan for approval. She could wait ten more minutes for the oven to heat but her gut told her to leave. It would make it easier for Nathan to leave instead of prolonging this. She worried about him because he kept mentioning his worry about being replaced. They made an amazing team and best friends; he didn’t have to fear losing her because of a date. She told him many times no one could replace someone as special as him in her life.

Nathan’s approval came in the sign of his most tender expression. The one he got when he saw a cat and tried to convince Pickles they needed a pet. The fond look he gifted her on many occasions when she needed to know she was loved.

“Have fun you two.”

Pickles didn’t know what to expect. She offered the keys to Skwisgaar who politely declined the chance to drive the truck though being allowed to play DJ interested him. When he mentioned going to Flanagan’s Pub, she figured Nathan suggest it. She loved pub food, when her band was in its infancy they lived on nachos and wings.

They found a secluded booth at the back of the pub. Skwisgaar seemed less anxious in a quieter space. Pickles understood, Nathan struggled with focusing on conversations in a noisy environment resulting in them hanging out in back booths. She liked that Skwisgaar didn’t show her off. Tony paraded her around bars as if she were a trophy instead of a human being. A simple private date was what she wanted at the end of the day.

“The nachos are the best,” she stated. She browsed the familiar menu anyways. She really liked spicy food and thought about suggesting hot wings too.

Skwisgaar studied the laminated menu to the best of his ability. He looked for keywords like beer, wings, and nachos. He got a bout of anxiety over making the order. With nothing in his hands to fidget with he resorted to bothering his tongue piercing.

“I do that too,” Pickles giggled. She caught onto his discomfort while he read the menu. She gave him a reassuring smile. He got flustered easily when it came to speaking English, she wished she could explain to him that he was doing a really good job. “What won’t you eat?” she questioned.

The blonde visibly relaxed. “Anythings except marshmallows,” he answered.

“Have yeh never had s’mores?”

“What ams s’mores?”

Pickles chuckled and tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. “The worlds best snack! It's melted chocolate and marshmallows between graham crackers,” she explained.

“If it has chocolates then I likes it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the waitress coming to take their order. Pickles took the hint from Skwisgaar to order for them and ordered two Heinenken and a loaded nacho platter. They didn’t have to wait long for their food to arrive and that became the perfect conversation starter.

She learned that Skwisgaar’s upbringing didn’t include a lot of spicy foods. The guy loved jalapeños and food in general. It broke her heart knowing that he sometimes went hungry as a child due to a negligent mother. Her own mother failed to put a meal on the table some nights, in Molly’s drunken stupor she gave Pickles and Seth a bowl of mayonnaise for supper on a few occasions. Calvert usually handed over the pizza money slurring a _fuck off_ at them when they bothered him. Seth’s attempts at cooking failed to render anything edible but he at twelve knew he needed to be a big brother. Pickles resented the dysfunctional alcoholics she got born too. Some days Molly acted like the model wife and mother by putting a roast on the table, Calvert sat down semi-sober at the table to read his paper and kept his berating to a minimum. Seth and Pickles tried not to fight with each other, when the façade faded the screaming started and she got cast away from the table. Blamed for being a nuisance and a troublemaking drama queen.

Skwisgaar reached across the table at some point to hold her hand. His expression full of compassion as they exchanged horror stories of their childhoods.

The topic of Seth remained guarded. Pickles hinted to his existence and the few times he acted like an older brother.

She listened with great interest as Skwisgaar explained growing up in Sweden. His cold childhood surrounded by snow and darkness. He loved the Northern Lights; he grew up a few miles from town and got to see a sky full of stars. He talked about the wolves, the fear he had of them when he was little to the fascination he developed. The nights he spent alone with just the wolves howling outside as his only company.

They stopped exchanging horror stories to move onto leaving home. They talked about bands, touring, the concerts they attended. Music was a safe topic. Pickles freely talked about her time in Snakes N Barrels. She shared only the positive memories. She realized that Skwisgaar went through a lot of bands, some she knew of and others she’d like to hear the demos. Like her, he enjoyed singing back vocals and playing guitar.

They devoured the giant plate of nachos then moved onto wings.

Pickles regaled him with stories of all the best places to get food and snacks in town. He told her about unique foods from his country. He suggested making her dinner one night to give her a chance to experience Swedish cuisine.

They stayed at Flanagan’s for three hours before heading out to the Hole In The Ground venue. The band was good, Pickles liked empowering female punk. Skwisgaar pointed out the bass player of the band and explained she was married to the frontman of Agnostic Priest. They headbanged along to Grunge Kittens, a true let loose moment for them both until the blonde leaned down to whisper in Pickles’ ear about heading back to his place when the set ended. She convinced him to drive since she had a buzz. He drove cautiously back to his place with directions from the little redhead.

The apartment remained clean. Skwisgaar owed William a thank you for respecting his wishes. They would have a few more hours of peace before the curly haired man returned from work. Pickles admired the wall of VHS tapes next to the tv. The collection was mostly horror movies and cringey action movies.

“Yeh got a lot of movies here,” Pickles remarked. “Did yeh rob a Blockbusters?”

The blonde scowled, “Pfft no. My roommate used to works for videos rentals store. He never stopped brings home movies or copyings them. He brings home lots of video games and comics book too.”

“He sounds like a pack rat,” Pickles smirked.

“The worsts. Tooks a long time to cleans up the apartment. He’s nice guy but don’t seems to understands cleanliness ams next to Godliness.”

Pickles agreed. She liked her apartment to stay clean. Her living arrangements with Tony were tolerable though she realized quickly that she grew up in a privileged household. Living in low rent homes became her reality when she ran away. Even when she bought a decent house Tony destroyed it. Nathan understood the importance of home being a haven for her. He did the chores asked of him with little complaining. She admired Skwisgaar’s efforts, he obviously found a balance living with a messy roommate. Pickles required a clean space because of her asthma.

“Why don’t you picks a movie,” Skwisgaar suggested. He excused himself from the living room to get them some beers.

Pickles went through the movie collection thoroughly. All the movies were sorted by genre in alphabetical order. She speculated that was Blondie’s doing. She found a few horror movies she knew were bootleg, movies that weren’t available yet or were banned. Her curiosity got the better of her until she found the movie they had to watch.

She chose one of her favorites – The Evil Dead.

That movie reminded her of the first time Seth ever did something cool. He used his fake I.D. to rent the movie for them from the big new rental store. The small rental store by their house stated they were too young and encouraged Seth to come back in a year when he was eighteen. Pickles admired her older brother the night he strolled into the house with the blue and yellow VHS case with The Evil Dead printed on the spine. His birthday gift to her along with a joint. The movie she put on once to distract Tony from touching her when they started living together. It was also the movie she watched with Nathan when they moved into their new apartment and he told her all the movie trivia. He talked about writing a song based on the movie and she hung on his every word.

Skwisgaar returned with the beers and eyed the movie, “What dids you pick?”

Pickles held up the plastic case proudly.

“The Evils Dead,” Skwisgaar read confidently. “Really goods choice.”

“Horror movies are the best cuddlin’ movies yeh know,” Pickles flirted. She removed the video cassette and pushed it into the VCR. She thanked Skwisgaar for the beer and flopped down on the worn couch with him as the movie started.

He remained patient, he didn’t make a move before Pickles finished her beer and snuggled against him. His long fingers played with the tips of her red hair as they watched the movie. Nathan’s warning to be respectful played on repeat in his head. He sensed Pickles grew impatient with him until she crawled her way into his lap to straddle him.

“Yeh won’t break me,” she said shuffling out of her leather jacket, tossing it aside.

Skwisgaar abandoned his half bottle of beer onto the coffee table and placed his hands on her thin hips. “I knows. I wants to be a gentlemans. I likes you,” he replied.

“I like yeh too,” she whispered. Even under the blue light of the tv, he looked handsome and ethereal. When her hands cupped his face, it amazed her how soft his skin was even though he clearly shaved. Her thumbs traced over his high cheekbones which caused him to melt into her touch. The blonde ate up affection, he responded to every touch. She nuzzled her nose against his playfully, his blue eyes dropped closed as he waited. She pressed an experimental kiss to his lips which he responded to in earnest.

His hands explored from her hips to her hair. He used the leverage of his hand carded in her backcomb hair to deepen the kiss. He cursed her for rolling her hips when the kiss got heated. Her hands left his face to wrap around his neck. They fumbled like two horny teenagers in the backseat of a car. Skwisgaar chose to change their position so they were laying on the couch. Their make out moving from kissing to groping hands touching each other. The sounds coming from Pickles’ mouth as he kissed along her neck egged the blonde on. He trailed his kisses back over her jaw to her mouth. She accepted his tongue being poked into her mouth and the sensual way he rubbed the ball of his tongue ring against the roof of her mouth.

Pickles’ mind went fuzzy with desire. It’d been so long since she kissed a man or slept with one. She pulled him down against her and rolled her hips to gain some friction. He continued to avoid groping her chest or ass which she appreciated and found frustration at the same time. She teased Skwisgaar by rubbing her tongue piercing over his lip. When they got into another heated make out, Pickles reached down to unbutton Skwisgaar’s jeans.

“Nej,” he said coming up for air only to dive back into the kiss.

She tried again, nearly jumped when the hand touching her waist grabbed her hand.

Skwisgaar broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. He gently brought her wrist up near her head to pin it. “Sluta, that ams Swedish for stop,” he huffed.

“I’m sorry,” Pickles whispered. She opened her eyes fearfully only to be met with tender blue eyes staring into hers.

“I amst in a rush withs you,” Skwisgaar said rubbing his nose against her. “I really likes you and wants to respekt yous.”

Pickles sighed in relief. She wiggled her fingers on her pinned wrist and smirked when he chose to hold her hand. “Teach me something else in Swedish,” she said fondly.

“Sötnos,” Skwisgaar offered.

“Sötnos,” Pickles repeated. “What does that mean?”

Skwisgaar pecked her on the lips, “Sweetheart.”

“Honey,” she said kissing him back.

They fell back into a lazy spell of kissing. The movie long forgotten until the credits rolled. Skwisgaar told her to pick another movie while he went to get more beers and snacks from the kitchen. Pickles selected Creepshow because the blonde claimed he never heard of it. They cuddled under a blanket, snacking, drinking, and getting into the odd make out session. The coffee table piled up with beer bottles and empty chip bags, a pizza box soon joined the mess when they both decided they needed a pizza for the third movie.

The two giggled as they drunkenly chanted Beetlejuice at the top of their lungs.

They kissed.

Skwisgaar taught her words in Swedish.

Pickles made him earn the last slice of pizza by wooing her in Swedish.

After their sixth beer each the make out session resumed, and everything became a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this only held a certain point of dialogue. I promise the coming chapters will include more conversation.  
> I needed to get some insight and backstory in which seemed to work with protective Nathan. Plus I am a sucker, I think Skwisgaar would be a real respectful sweetheart if he was being monogamous!  
> **I needed to add more dialogue. I read this again and found some more interact for these two!!**


	5. Chivalry is Not Dead...It's Skwisgaar!

Pickles woke up to a splitting pain in her head.

Familiar yet oddly worse than any hangover she every had, she pried her tired eyes open, blinking rapidly as her eyes focused around the dimly lit room. A Black Sabbath flag covered the window though the sunlight tried to pour through the fabric. The walls were covered in posters of bands she recognized and some she didn’t. Rolling over, she noted how many books were on the bookshelf accompanied by cassettes and cds. There wasn’t much clutter, plants sat on top of the dresser drawers and the desk seemed to have a meticulous order to it. A few notebooks and an English dictionary were lined up perfectly on the left hand side of the desk. Beside the desk sat a guitar on a stand next to an amp and another instrument in a smaller case.

It hit her suddenly that it wasn’t her home. She woke up in a stranger’s bedroom. Panic set in as she lifted the sheets to look down at her body. Where were her clothes? Why was she wearing a pair of boxers and an Agnostic Priest t-shirt? She looked beside her to see the sheets tucked into the other side of the queen-sized bed. Oh god, she must have puked on herself if she had no clothes. How drunk did they get last night?

Those were all questions that needed answering.

Pickles slid out of the bed, sighing in relief when she saw her clothes folded neatly on top of a utility case at the foot of the bed. She admired all the stickers on the black road case, Skwisgaar Skwigelf was spray painted in white on the lid and side. She remembered hers, Pickles D. spray painted on her own road case back in the day. The letters were neon green, she forced Tony to find the right color for her. She wanted it to be special. Hers got covered in stickers too, she collected them from all the bands she toured with.

The need to flee the room settled. She still had her underwear and bra on underneath the borrowed clothing. That didn’t mean anything, something still could’ve happened. She cautiously stepped around the room while she decided what to do. Clearly, she woke up in Skwisgaar’s room with a hangover. Her next question was where did he sleep? She swayed uneasily trying to decide if she should leave the room or stay there until the blonde came to get her.

She hated waking up in weird places. It brought back memories that haunted her since her teenaged years. It didn’t matter if it were Seth or Tony, she feared these situations. When she blacked out, she struggled to recall events. She remembered going out with Skwisgaar and coming back to his place to watch movies. The more they drank, the cloudier her memory became. The last thing she remembered was them kissing.

Pickles rubbed at her face, smearing her make up around her eyes. She sighed loudly. She needed to leave the room, find the bathroom before she peed her borrowed shorts. The redhead went to the door, carefully twisting the doorknob to avoid making any noise. Opening the door a crack, she peeked out into the living room and saw Skwisgaar laying facedown on the couch. Stepping out into the space, she noticed how clean it was. He must have cleaned up before falling asleep. She excused herself to the bathroom and did her business quickly.

She debated leaving. Her clothes were in the other room, she just needed to find her purse. Running away from things worked sometimes. She made up her mind to run away, Skwisgaar would get over it.

Unfortunately, when she exited the bathroom, she found herself standing behind the couch staring down at her date. She pushed his blonde hair back to admire how handsome he was. She enjoyed spending time with him. He didn’t expect her to sleep with him on the first date and he seemed to be chattier when they were alone. He laughed a lot; he was rather funny when they added commentary to the movies. Running away seemed unfair, he didn’t deserve that after such a wonderful date.

“He shlept on the couch the whole night.”

Pickles stopped playing with Skwisgaar’s hair to acknowledge the man sitting in the kitchen. “He did?” she replied. She saw the guy around the bar a few times. They never really interacted aside from the typical bartender and client interaction.

“He is a deshcent guy. He got you ready for bed then came out here to shleep,” William said taking a sip of his coffee. He drank in the appearance of Skwisgaar’s date. She looked gorgeous even with her make up smeared all over her face. Her freckled skin and long pale legs made him drool a bit.

“Yeh that’s pretty decent,” Pickles mused. She lightly poked at his cheek to get him to wake up. She didn’t like this other guy staring at her. His gaze bordered predatory. It caused her skin to crawl, it reminded her of a time when Tony, Sammy and Bullets shared a hotel room with her on her first tour. They watched her with great interest, every move and breathe they were aware of how her body responded on the basic human level. She’d never forget that gaze.

William chuckled, “I’m William.”

“Ah, I’m Rory,” Pickles responded. She jabbed Skwisgaar rather hard near the eye which proved effective.

“Ows,” whined the blonde lump. He rolled over to see Rory standing by the couch, her fingers went to smooth out his hair. She looked uneasy as she politely continued to talk to his roommate.

William scowled. Great, with Skwisgaar awake that meant his ogling session was over.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Pickles cooed. “I didn’t mean to wake yeh.”

Skwisgaar sat up to stretch out his cramped back. “It ams okay. I sees you meets Murderface my roommate,” he grumbled.

“I thought I’d come get yeh. See if yeh wanted to cuddle in bed.”

He recognized the tone. He heard it before from other women when they wanted to get away from William. If he knew his friend as well as he did, he set off the creep vibe by staring to much. “Ja, yous get comfy sötnos. I be ins in a minute,” he said. He offered her an out which she took, she hastily went back into his bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“Holy shit, she’s hot!”

“I tolds you not to be weirds,” Skwisgaar said. He crawled out of his makeshift nest on the couch. He shot his friend a displeased look while he gathered up his blankets and pillow. He saw Pickles’ purse on the kitchen table that she tossed under the coffee table the night before. Typical William, moving things into the kitchen to force a conversation with a girl. Skwisgaar stormed in, shouldering the black leather fringe bag. “You don’ts interferes with her. She amst like other girl. She is specials to me and I wants to spends lot of time withs her,” he warned.

William rolled his eyes.

“I wants serious thing with her. You has to accepts that I want to grows up and be a one woman’s man. No more skankies girls. I wants a girl likes her,” He added.

“You’re nineteen. Why ish thish so important? You used to be fun!”

Skwisgaar groaned loudly in frustration, “Pfft because I wants too!”

“We used to be a team,” William hollered. He hated her, hot or not she ruined everything. Skwisgaar used to go out to bars to hunt down women to bring home. They both got laid because the blonde’s smooth talking eased the tension. Rory’s existence in Skwisgaar’s life meant William might never see another woman in the apartment again.

“We ams when we play music togethers. The rest ams over. You is twenty two, you cans find a woman on your owns.”

Who was he kidding? William Murderface finding a woman on his own was as likely as a cow jumping over the moon.

Skwisgaar stormed off. He hated confrontations with William. They fought a lot about the move to Tampa and how things changed. Leaving saved him the agonizing guilt that he hurt his friend’s feelings. He tossed the excess bedding into the hall closet on his way to the bathroom. He forgot he had Pickles’ purse with him and lord it weighed a ton. No doubt his friend went snooping in her bag. After his short visit to the bathroom, he finally made it back into his bedroom where Pickles turned on the bedside lamp.

She walked around looking at the pictures he taped up on one of his walls. She leaned in closely to study the photographs. The one she seemed interested in was of him as a child with his mother.

“That ams my moms,” Skwisgaar said awkwardly. He put her purse down with her other possession and went to stand beside her.

“She’s really pretty.”

The blonde chewed at his lip. He hated talking about family, nothing good ever come from talking about her. “Ah that ones with the old guy,” Skwisgaar said pointing out a photo. “That ams my grandfather Anders. He mades violins and was a really amazing player.”

“How older were yeh in that photo of you two playing violin together?” Pickles asked. She was impressed to see Skwisgaar played violin. She knew he could sing and was amazing at guitar. She wanted to hear him play violin someday.

“Seventeen. He passed aways that summer.”

Pickles wrapped her arms around Skwisgaar’s thin body and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“It ams okay. He lives a good life. Just me and my moms now,” the blonde said hugging her back.

After going through the photo wall, they moved onto the band posters. He had a few autographed posters and magazine covers. It was there that Pickles noticed a familiar Rolling Stones cover. Her lip trembled, that photoshoot brought back a lot of bad memories. The tour nearly killed her. Tony kept pumping her full of drugs that year and the article was cringey. She remembered how sober she was when the interview happened, how out of it her bandmates was. Immortalized forever in words, she declared how tired she was of Snakes N Barrels and babysitting drug addicted thirty-year olds.

“How’d yeh get my autograph?” Pickles asked curiously. Scrawled across the cover was all the bands’ signatures. Tony’s autograph shorthanded because he got too high to function at meet and greets. Pickles remembered trying to sober him up enough to meet the fans. The worst thing was being a disappointment signing autographs. She prayed if she met her Blondie as a kid, he didn’t leave discouraged or hurt by the cold interactions from the other members.

“You tours Swedens when I was sixteen. I cames to get your autographs. Couldn’t affords to attend the show but I spent my money to gets the magazine so you could signs it. You gaves me a lot of weirds boners watching MTV as a teensager,” Skwisgaar laughed.

Pickles hugged him extra tight. “Did I treat yeh good then? That year I was fucked up a lot. I really hope I didn’t treat yeh like shit because I was sick of tourin’ and playin’ in stadiums,” she said.

“You were so nice. I didn’ts like Tony much, he was rudes. The others were fine. You mades sure everyone signed. You smiled ats me,” Skwisgaar said. A blush burned at his cheeks retelling this. “You smiled ats me and I thinks that mades me want redhead girl with green eyes for rest of my life.”

“So, who do you like? Me Rory or Me Pickles?”

Skwisgaar took the opportunity to lead her back to his bed. He pulled her down next to him and asserted himself as the big spoon. He buried his face into her hair that smelled amazing. “I lusted afters Pickles. Mades me really feel okay abouts my sexualities. The one I likes though ams you Rory. You makes me confident. You don’t correct my English. You are patients with me, you seems to understands the anxieties issues I have withouts calling me crybaby for its. You are honests and funny, I likes that about you,” he said sincerely.

“I would never call yeh a crybaby. It ain’t my place to correct your English, Skwisgaar. Have yeh heard my Wisconsin accent? I’m the last person who should correct someone,” she laughed.

“Ams also beautifuls. Even more beautifuls because you ams humble.”

Pickles blushed furiously. “Now yeh just want to make me blush,” she snickered.

“Nej, I wants to make you happies.”

“Yeh said yeh were sixteen when yeh met me?” Pickles started. She never bothered to get Skwisgaar’s age not that it mattered to her if he was younger than her. “I think I was twenty when I went on that tour. Honestly can’t remember I was so strung out the whole time.”

Skwisgaar nervously laughed, “I ams nineteen. Is that’s okay?”

“Are yeh okay with me being twenty-three?”

“Age is only a numbers.”

Pickles turned around in the embrace to look at the younger man. His hair was a wavy tangled mess on his head, his icy blue eyes stared back at her fondly. “Why did yeh sleep on the couch? Yeh could have slept next to me,” she asked.

“It woulds have been disrespectfuls to sleeps with you whens you drunk,” Skwisgaar said poking his long fingers into Pickles hair to sort out a matted knot. “Didn’t wants you waking ups worried somethings happened afters we agreed it amst a rush.”

“How’d I get changed?”

Skwisgaar said reassuringly, “I turns my back after givings you the clothes. I alreadies touched your body but you has not givens me permission to do so withouts clothes on.”

“So yeh seriously didn’t even sneak a peek?” Pickles inquired. She raised one of her pierced eyebrows in suspicion. Nathan even snuck a peek the odd time she paraded around in her underwear. Tony ogled her every chance he got as well as some other people who shouldn’t have when she was a teenager. Even Skwisgaar’s roommate undressed her with his eyes. How did Blondie not stand there watching her strip down to her underwear when she was drunk?

“As much as I wants too, I respects you. I wouldn’t wants a guy to does that to me, why woulds it be okays for me to does that to you?”

Pickles reached up to caress his cheek. Her green eyes searched his for any hint of a lie. She could always tell when Seth lied, his eyes deceived him because he always needed to avert them when she forced him to look at her. Tony tried to jerk his head away from her grasp or slapped her hand, he screamed at her to stop accusing him of things. Nathan never lied to her, he easily looked her in the eyes when he told her the truth. Skwisgaar stared back at her, baring his soul as if his eyes were a gateway to all his deepest secrets. “I appreciate yeh being a gentleman last night,” she sighed.

“And you ams a real lady. You asked me to stays when I tucks you in and you smiles so much whens I told you whys I said no. I wanted to stays so bads but seeings how much you trusted me meants the worlds to me. We can’ts have a relationship if we don’ts trust each other.”

“Oh ‘m so gonna snuggle the fuck outtta yeh,” Pickles squealed happily. She wrapped herself around the tall lanky man in bed next to her and latched onto him like a cat climbing a tree.

Skwisgaar burst out laughing and returned the tight hug. “I wants to go on anothers date with you, Rory,” he said playfully.

“I would really like that. I also give yeh permission to sleep next to me and touch me if yeh want,” Pickles added. She inhaled the amazing smell of the blonde’s cologne, she melted over his spicy smell mixed in floral.

“Hows about we goes back to sleep? I ams hungover as hell,” the younger man complained. His hangover caught up to him. He didn’t drink a lot. His lightweight nature usually left him with a terrible hangover that took a day to shake.

Pickles loosened her grip on Skwisgaar to settle into a more relaxed cuddle. “God dude I know. I gotta wicked hangover,” she added.

“We has a nap date?”

“I only have one condition, honey,” Pickles smirked.

Skwisgaar stilled nervously. He’d do anything including tossing William into a dumpster for interfering with his girl. “What ams that?” he asked.

“We cuddle in underwear. ‘m not sayin’ I’m easy I just sleep better that way,” she snickered.

“Me toos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some sickly sweet Skwisgaar being respectful to female Pickles!   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!   
> Happy Reading <3


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